


Sherlollipops - Card

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [138]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I hardly think it was my fingers in your hair that got me pregnant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Card

**Author's Note:**

> fangirlhani asked: One word prompt. Card.

He loved it, absolutely, unreservedly _loved_ it, when she carded her fingers through his hair. He’d had no idea how soothing such a motion could be until one day, quite by accident, he’d found out.

It had been when he was still in hiding after the Reichenbach debacle, restlessly trying to find a comfortable position on one end of her sofa while she perched at the opposite end, pretending interest in some Australian soap opera when it was clear she could hardly keep her eyes off him. Not out of any lascivious interest ( _not this time,_ a disgruntled portion of his brain had noted), but purely out of concern for his health.

“You’ll pop a stitch,” she finally said, giving up any pretence at watching her inane show. “Here, lie down.” She patted the sofa, then sort of hovered her hands over her lap. “You need to rest,” she urged him when he stared at her. “Just let me help.”

She was always helping him, and this time had been no different. Well, except for the discovery that her hands, small and deft and skilled at so many things (except, perhaps, at donning nitrile gloves), would prove to be just what he needed to soothe him. He’d rested his head on her lap once he deduced that was what she wanted him to do, his eyes snapping shut as soon as her fingers hesitantly moved over his scalp.

She was doing it now, as a matter of fact, even though there was barely enough room on her lap for his head, which sat rather precariously on her knee. Her fingers continued moving rhythmically, the occasional scrape of her nails a subtle tease. Eyes still closed, he smirked as he felt the light scratching at the same time their unborn daughter chose to kick – or possibly punch – the back of his head where it rested against the warm bulge of her eight-months-and-counting home. “Better watch that, Mrs. Holmes. Carding your fingers through my hair is what got you up the duff in the first place.”

“Don’t be crude.” Molly emphasized her lightly-chastising words by scratching at his scalp again. “Besides, I hardly think it was my fingers in your hair that got me pregnant. Pretty sure it takes a bit more than that, or else my sex education classes were way off the mark.”

“Ah, but it was definitely your fingers in my hair that first made me realize how very, very interested I was in putting my own sex education classes to the test,” he replied archly, pressing a kiss to her knee.

He felt as well as heard her low laugh. “Ah, Sherlock Holmes, you incurable romantic.”

Once again, their daughter kicked him in the head. He supposed he’d best get used to her siding with her mother against him!


End file.
